The kiss

That moment, that precise moment when you bridge the gap between your lips, your bodies – that moment divides you into two; takes you to two different and extreme places where you’re aware of nothing but his warmth, his breath on your skin, your hand on his chest, his hand on your nape and the beat of both your hearts. It also takes you to that place where you’re aware of everything around you, and you catalog it in your head: the smell of the air, the noise in the background, the temperature change in the room.

That first touch of lips is held to last forever or at least for as long as you can, hesitating to deepen it for fear that it may break the momentum. But the desire to do more, to feel more, outweighs the fear. A slight parting of lips, a small tilt of the head, a breath caught and slowly, bliss seeps in.

The tips of your tongues touch. His hands have moved to cup your face, bringing it close, holding it still and true – almost possessing you, owning you, begging you. He swipes the tip of his tongue over your lower lip, tasting your latest favorite flavored chapstick and for a second, puts in a mental note to purchase more of that for you. You nip at his upper lip as you let go of a sigh, curling your fingers around his collar, tugging him closer to you. You plan to defy physics and have him melt into you.

A small sound bubbles from your throat, incoherent and guttural. Only he understands, only he is well versed in your language. He pulls away, catching his breath and resting his forehead on yours without letting go of your face. He speaks your name and suddenly you can’t breathe. You’re choked and you’re holding on to the tiniest fragment of your self control. He says your name as if it means something, as if it means everything, as if you were his salvation. You give everything, you leave nothing for yourself, and you save him as you save yourself.

“Kiss me again…” you say. It’s all you can say anyway. It’s all that you need and all that matters.

You close your eyes as he does.